The Walking Dead, a show that has been on for as long as I’ve been alive, had its mid-season premiere (totally made-up thing) last night, and guess what? Fucking Carl ate it!

Ever since I started watching this show way back in 1988, and particularly since I stopped watching it after its awful and boring second season, I’ve been waiting for stupid-ass Carl to die. Like most sane people who rejected this show after it forced me to watch an entire season—or was it just half a season? A quarter? Did I miss a mid-mid-season premiere somewhere in the timeline?—in which the characters searched for a little girl who was just sitting in a barn right next to them, I absorb information about this show entirely through Monday morning blog posts and headlines. This means I don’t have to watch the terrible television show, but I still know that The Walking Dead’s Quarter-Season Finale Flipped The Script or whatever. A while back I heard that the nice guy got beaten to death by a mean guy with a baseball bat. Didn’t like hearing that at all. I think crossbow guy is still alive, so I like that. But what I really liked was waking up this morning to find out about Carl being dead as hell!

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Are you going to try and convince me that Carl somehow became cool at some point during the 17 seasons of this show I haven’t watched? I don’t believe you. He’s probably just as annoying as a 37-year-old guy with one eye as he was when he was 12 and running around in his psychotic dad’s dumb hat. Also, it appears that Carl was still wearing the hat up until his death? You’re 37, man. Ditch the hat.